


Silent Lucidity

by LeatherAndPlaid (LucifersSon), TheSupernaturalMoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas becomes a hippie, Cas goes to protests, Cas is honestly just using the movement to cope, Charlie is captain of the lesbians, F/M, Free love movement, Hippie!Charlie, Hippie!Jo, Human!Castiel - Freeform, I don't like myself rn honestly, Journalist!Castiel, M/M, Soldier!Dean, The chapters will get longer I swear, Vietnam War, War, War draft, You fight the industrial war complex Castiel, hippie!Castiel, more tags to come, think "across the universe" with more angst, tw:drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSon/pseuds/LeatherAndPlaid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSupernaturalMoose/pseuds/TheSupernaturalMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean one last time?” Cas whimpered, eyes starting to dampen despite himself. “You’re coming home.” He announced, like an indisputable fact. “You’re coming home and then we’re going on together like this goddamn war never happened, and you’ll be fi-”<br/>Dean pulled him close, held him tighter than he had ever held Cas before. “I’m already gone, babe. Just let me go, I know you’ll be fine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. War (What is it Good For?)

**Author's Note:**

> I've pre-tagged a lot of the ships and characters, so just hang in with me, yeah? I've plotted a lot of this out, it's just getting it onto the web.  
> If you really wanna have a bad time, play Silent Lucidity by Queensryche while you read this.

 

“we, uh... we need to talk, Cas.” Dean kept his voice low as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. He made it look like two buddies bitching about the past decade, how the 60's weren't fair and the 70's weren't looking bright because as “progressive” as their generation wanted to act, being with another man just wasn't done. “I head out in two weeks.”

It was pretty clear that Castiel was trying to keep face as well, but it wasn't working. They sat in the diner, over their coffee, both looking like their worlds had ended. Blue eyes met green, and a steely hatred melted away the dew that was forming in the former. “we'll find a way, there's a ton of fuckers dodging the draft right?” Cas was squeaking despite himself, going a mile a minute as he clung to the hope of trying to keep his lover with him. “We'll head to Canada, go off the grid, find a way to start-”

“You know damn well that won't work, Castiel.” Dean's eyes started to mist up,and he opted to look down at his coffee rather than show how weak he felt right now. “I have to go. You know I do.” He sounded choked and tired, like he was accepting death; in a war like this he might as well have been. Both men knew the men who made it to Vietnam were being sent out in droves to fight against an enemy they couldn't begin to separate from civilian. “I don't want to, don't want to leave you, but you don't get away from shit like this.” There was a clattering of silverware hitting ceramic plating, and the busy diner went silent. None of that mattered to Dean. All he heard was the sentence that Cas whispered as he stood to storm out, tears welling in his eyes.

“you give up too damn easily, Dean Winchester.”

 


	2. Stairway To Heaven

It had been two months since Dean had been deployed, and he was already totally and royally fucked. He had made one friend in this hell hole, Benny, and it was surprising that the two got along. Nevertheless the two were at each other's side whenever the could be, saving each other a seat in the mess hall and horsing around in the barracks more often than not. Today though, there wasn't any laughter, no sodality between them as they trudged through the wilderness with the rest of the battalion. The air was too heavy, the tension too thick as the cadets looked for any sign of the Vietcong in the area. A few miles into the trek the road widened, and after that the forest opened up to flatlands and rice paddies. The general barked a call to be more alert and the conscript rapidly split the road, marching to the sides to give better access to the trenches. No amount of basic training could have prepared Dean for the mental exhaustion that came with this; it was miles of the same shitty landscape, the same people, forcing yourself to look for the smallest detail in places where there was no detail, and of course keeping yourself aware through the gruelling boredom of marching through nothingness. They had spent hours in the heat, looking for god knows what, and Dean's mind wandered to a better place. He pictured the stubble that would decorate Castiel's face when he was too engrossed in an article he was writing, and the way his eyes would light up as he talked about his favourite current subjects. He remembered all of those times he'd wake up at three or four in the morning to Cas hunched over his typewriter, the  _klak klak klak_ of the keys being the only sign that the journalist was even awake, and the silhouette of the toned shoulders rolling cast by the lone desk lamp Cas would use instead of turning on the fan light and waking Dean. Being lost in thought pulled Dean away from the hell that was the Bu Prang countryside, but only temporarily. What pulled him back was the deafening bang of the Hum-V cruising over a land mine, sending shrapnel everywhere as Benny grabbed the collar of Dean's fatigues and pulled them both into the roadside trenches.

The ringing in his ears was incessant, it seemed. Dean's head was swimming, and although he could see Benny's mouth moving, he couldn't make heads or tails of the words. He just stared, slack jawed, waiting for some signal to do... hell, anything. Benny's hands came up to grasp Dean's shoulders and shake him roughly, effectively snapping him out of his daze. “you alright brother? I'm kinda gonna need your help with this,” Benny drawled, looking at Dean like he'd lost his damn mind. Over the other soldier's voice Dean realized he could hear the clatter of shells, and finally pieced together that they had actually hit a Vietcong camp, not just a mine. He was still reeling as a rifle was shoved into his hands, but there was enough training for the autopilot to take over. “Atta boy, Winchester,” Benny shouted over the gunfire, popping up to fire at the enemy as Dean worked on loading his own weapon. “We'll take down these damn 'congs if it kills u-” He was cut short as a bullet hit it's mark, square between Benny's eyes. Dean could only stare in abject horror for a short moment, frozen in shock. When he finally snapped to, he screamed, a primal and ugly noise that he wasn't actually sure came from him as he opened fire. His shots came in quick bursts, and the last time he raised his head over the trenches he was raised too far. A cluster of three shells hit Dean in the chest, sending him tumbling back into the dirt before everything went black.

“Wake up, Dean. It's time.” The voice was soft, soothing, and in direct contrast with the nightmare he had just lived. Dean's eyes rolled open with a groan. It took a couple of minutes for him to realize that yes, he was still in Bu Prang, and yes, that was an incredibly stunning woman standing amidst a bunch of corpses. He blinked, slowly, drinking in the sight of the slender brunette in a clean white dress amongst the chaos of the war scene. Eventually Dean was able to pull himself up to a standing position, shocked when there was no pain.”what the hell?” Dean mumbled, shooting a confused glare to the woman in white. “who are you? What are you doing here?” Once he was awake the soldier's brain moved a mile a minute, and he grabbed the woman's wrist to pull her out of the way of danger. “we have to get you out of here, it's not safe miss-”

“Dean, look down.” The woman's voice was gentle, her face pleading and ever soft. Dean obliged, seeing the sorrow in her eyes, looked down to the trenches and stopped in his tracks. He was in the trench, blood pooling in the dirt where it had already soaked his fatigues. His eyes were still open, glassy and starting to lose the colour in the iris, and the claret tumbling from his mouth had stained his chin and lips. When the private could finally talk, his voice was choked and ragged. “no... no there's some mistake. That's not me.” He pointed to his chest, the confusion in his features melting to anger. “I'm here, that's not me damn it!” Tears sprung up in his eyes despite himself as he made eye contact with the woman before him.

“That is you, Dean. I'm Tessa.” Her face softened more, impossibly, before she continued. “I'm here to help you.”

“Help me what? Apparently I'm dead as a goddamn door nail.” The anger never left Dean's face, but it did shift between confusion and rage and sheer pain.

“well, to help you get home. To move on.”

Dean's demeanor dropped. All of the emotion had left him, rather suddenly. “I don't really have a choice, do I?”

Tessa smiled reassuringly. “Not really, no. I mean, it's stay here or come with me, but it's honestly not so bad.”

Dean sighed and ran a shaky hand through his hair, suddenly feeling drained. Right now, all he could think of was one thing. “Can I ask something before we go?” The animosity that had resided in his tone was gone, and seemed to be replaced with a certain weariness. He sure as hell wasn't staying here, since all he thought about since he got to the base was getting out, but the thought of just accepting death and leaving Cas alone.... Well, neither option really seemed like an option. Maybe- just maybe- he'd be able to let go of everything if he could make sure Castiel was doing alright. “Can we go see... uh, my friend?” He muttered, not entirely sure where the reaper would stand on matters of love and sexuality. “I know it sounds weird but he's been with me through a lot, and I just want to make sure-”

“We can go see Castiel.” Tessa interjected, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “One last time. I can assure you he's doing well anyhow.” Dean went to make some snide remark, ask how she knew so much about his personal life, but before he could get a word in she grabbed his shoulder and they were spiralling. The sensation lasted less than a second but still felt like forever, and incredibly vivid. Next the soldier knew they were in Cas's tiny apartment, watching him look through his mail. Blue eyes scanned the envelopes he received, looking for a specific name printed on the front in the sloppy scrawl he knew and loved; any hope left those eyes when nothing matching his expectations was found. Cas quickly moved on to dinner with not much more than a heavy sigh and a shrug, like it didn't matter in the first place. Biting emptiness clawed deeper into Dean's chest as he realized the reaper was right; Cas didn't need him. He had picked up and moved on with his life, like Dean was never there in the first place.

“We can go,” Dean mumbled, eyes cast down as he bit back his pain. He tried to tell himself that it was alright, that at least Cas seemed pretty happy, but his selfish side took over. He wanted- needed, even- to think Cas needed him. Without it there wasn't really a reason for Dean to keep going. “I've seen enough.” All Tessa gave in response was a small nod and her hand, and as soon as their fingers intertwined everything went white.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping... my bad lmao. I hit a major block trying to finish Dean and Tessa's interaction because Dean is so fucking unpredictable in situations like these that it's hard to imagine. HOPEFULLY I can get these chapters lengthier gradually because I'm always terribly self conscious about my chapter length but heY QUALITY OVER QUANTITY RIGHT???  
> Right.  
> Thanks for sticking around! The AO3 community is always great with supporting new writers and I love you all for it!


	3. Living After Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was so delayed because honestly, it was so hard to progress. I love writing angst fics, especially when they're Cas centric, but they hurt me lmao. This chapter may be going up un-beta'd so feel free to ask me to make any changes, especially if they're grammatical. Any feedback appreciated! Thanks for reading!

Castiel knew something was up, felt it in his bones as he walked up to the porch of the Winchester house. A heavy air hung around the place in a way that almost made it hard for the man to breathe. He knocked on the door in usual fashion, three quick raps on the wood, and when the oldest Winchester son opened the door, it didn't feel right. There was a sad smile on Dean's face; the grin of a man begging for forgiveness.

“Hey, Cas. I missed you.” Dean didn't hesitate to pull him into his arms in a hug much too long to be public, the two still on the porch in full view of all of his neighbors. Something was definitely wrong.

“What's the matter, Dean?” Castiel kept his voice clipped and deadpan, pulling away to look at the green eyes and combed chestnut hair he loved so much. “what happened?” Both the men knew what Cas was doing; he was distancing himself so that he could have the emotional cushion he would need for the situation. It was a habit he tried to break, one he fought with every breath, but damn if it didn't make things easier in the long run, especially where Dean was involved. Despite backing away from the concern he felt since he arrived at the house- what had he come over for?- Castiel couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Everything felt... off., like he wasn't himself. Like this wasn't the Winchester house, and he wasn't half-listening to Dean babble about how he's fine and even if he wasn't he'd be able to handle it anyway.

But then he remembered.

Dean was in Vietnam. 

He'd been deployed for months.

Like a switch had been flipped off, everything fell away except for Castiel's lover. They stood in plain white, Dean still wearing that pathetic smile like he couldn't help it. Cas’ mind was racing a mile a minute as he drank in the sight of the other man, silently worshiping every freckle and pore on his face. It dawned on him that Cas had missed him; yes, he had always been aware of the loneliness he felt in Dean’s absence, but what he hadn’t realized was how much the loneliness had actually hurt. 

“I don’t have long.” Dean muttered, his tone all too somber. When Cas snapped back to reality- or at least back to the present situation- he noticed Dean fading away as the rest of his surroundings had. “I just wanted to see you one last time. Let you know I love you… you know, all of that cheesy bull.” 

“What do you mean one last time?” Cas whimpered, eyes starting to dampen despite himself. “You’re coming home.” He announced, like an indisputable fact. “You’re coming home and then we’re going on together like this goddamn war never happened, and you’ll be fi-”

Dean pulled him close, held him tighter than he had ever held Cas before. “I’m already gone, babe. Just let me go, I know you’ll be fine.”

A gasp fell from chapped lips as Cas sat up in bed, feeling for his partner as he sobbed. The sheets were empty, and much colder than they had been months ago. It was just a dream, right? Castiel’s anxiety had just gotten the better of him, his worry spilling even into his unconscious. There was no way Dean wasn’t okay, no way he wouldn’t get a letter in the mail in a couple weeks time. He would go see Dean’s family after he left the office today, and check in like he always did, and everything would be fine. Those words became his mantra as he checked the clock and hauled his way through his morning routine, even if those words didn’t shake the same unease that he had felt in his dream. The entire day was a blur, from shower to commute to the endless drafts that he combed over halfheartedly in an attempt to keep his work sharp despite the dread that had been sitting in his core since the day Dean had left. Fifteen minutes before the end of his shift, Castiel picked up the phone on his desk and called the family, just make sure it was okay to drop by. He hadn’t expected Sam to pick up, and he certainly didn’t think that the usually chipper teen would sound so bleak when he did. Was that Mary sobbing in the back, or was the TV on some stupid drama? 

Cas’ heart sank, his whole body going numb. He told Sam he was on his way, not waiting for a reply before he slammed the handset on the receiver and swept all of his work into an unkempt pile to sort out later. He bolted out of the office- work be damned- and sped to the Winchester house, needing to know that everything was alright. The usual twenty minute commute from the office to the Winchester place was cut in half, the ever looming trepidity growing after that phone call.

They all knew about the nature of his “friendship” with Dean, but that was no issue to Mary and Sam;John was a little apprehensive at the start and truth be told hadn’t grown the affection that the rest of the family had. Despite the distress with the man of the house, he was treated like part of the family, even taken in and allowed to stay in the guest bed when Castiel’s family discovered his “disease” and decided that he wasn’t a part of their god-fearing household. 

The visit was full of everything the journalist was trying so hard to avoid. Dean was gone, and no one in the group seemed to be taking it particularly well. Even John, in his own way, was mourning; his eyes staring somewhere distant instead of staying in the now, like he was running from the issue at hand in his head. Castiel didn’t bother to stay long in his present situation either, really. He could have, should have, spared a few more minutes, hours even. If any of it felt like reality there’s no doubt he would have, but there’s no authenticity in a world where Cas existed and Dean didn’t, so there was no reason for any of this to really matter. He shed a few tears with Mary before the majority of his brain went into autopilot, after that it was all formalities. Castiel distanced himself, shut down all emotion and tried not to be too terribly rude to the Winchesters as he left (that is to say he gave chilly goodbyes in a way saved for the most far-flung strangers and walked out the front door without waiting for their responses). 

Work was an abstract consideration as he drove away (in the damn-near new chevy impala Dean’s father had given to his son a couple years back) towards the apartment. The drive was a numb blur, as was anything between the driver’s side of the impala to what was his boyfriend’s side of the bed. He found his mind focusing on the simplest damn things as he lay there; how cold the sheets were, how absolutely wrong it felt to have driven the impala (Dean never let Castiel drive, save once or twice, and Cas never really bothered to object), how empty the house would feel without Dean coming home from the garage and putting one of his deafening rock vinyls on full blast as soon as he walked through the door…. The more thought Castiel put into those little details the angrier he got; angry at the government for taking Dean away, angry at Dean’s reckless ass for getting himself killed (and for not fighting the system to not go in the first place), angry at himself for not making a better argument for running. It all added up in the hours he spent there, until he realized that doing nothing would only keep up that cycle of hate. The best route, in his mind, was to keep ignoring the harsh reality staring him in the face until he could actually deal with it. 

Excellent plan… in theory. Once Castiel dragged himself from underneath the sheets and checked his calendar, however, he realized that his next assignment wasn't for at least a week. He glanced to the small desk at the corner of the room, sighing as he debated to call his bitch of a boss. Trying to get hours from this woman was hell on a fun day, but with Castiel’s mood as sour as it was he really didn't even want to hear her voice. Still only half-functional and falling into apathy, his legs carried himself to the living room and his hand had picked up the receiver before Cas had consciously made a decision to call. He punched in the correct number and waited, his disinterest growing.

“Hello?” The voice rang over the line, more of a command to speak than a greeting.

“hello Naomi,” Castiel managed to answer in the clipped tone he typically affected whenever speaking to anyone he wasn't terribly close to- so anyone other than Dean. “I was just seeing if there were any assignme-”

“Let me stop you right there. I'm busy, there's no jobs available, and no, not even if you get your next column in early.” There was a short pause and a huff of breath when Naomi remembered she wouldn't shake this underling so easily. Castiel usually got what he wanted, in the long run.

“Ma’am, I really need the work.”

“Doesn't everybody? There's a war on, son.”

“Exactly. Isn't there, I don't know, something going on? Maybe a protest? War makes the papers.”

Another flat, dejected sigh. “There's a few, but it's not really front-page news,” Naomi remarked begrudgingly. “Honestly they're not worth the fare. The only one even close to worth while is a rally in L.A. and I'm sure we can't afford it.”

“I'll pay to get there,” Cas remarked, interest piqued at the mention of a trip. Anything to get away from all of this. “I have my own equipment, I'm trained for everything, and rallies are public so it's not like entry fees would be an issue.”

“Fine, Castiel. Fine. If you'll cover travel expenses and do the story yourself, we'll get it printed.” She didn't sound nearly as excited as Castiel for this prospect, but it got the little runt out of her hair. She laid out the details that he wanted- mostly telling the other journalist to keep it broad, maybe do an exposé rather than a report- before jamming the the receiver back on the hook before the annoying brat could get another word in. 

Cas held the phone close to his chest after Naomi hung up. He took a deep breath as a pit formed in his stomach. In some ways Cas felt like this was wrong, seeing as he had only just found out about Dean’s death. He pushed those feelings down with the rest, still deciding that the only way to go was to drown out this whole scene.


End file.
